Frostin'
by LunarLacrimosa
Summary: The Great Easter Blizzard of '68. Aster, or Bunnymund, is busy with Easter when Frostbite steps on one of his eggs, acts like he doesn't know it's Easter, calls him a Kangaroo, and just has a bad attitude asking if Aster wanted 'help'. Yeah, right. Not from Jack Frost. (Like all good future heroes, Jack Frost is misunderstood by the Guardians, which always leads to trouble.)
1. Chapter 1

**AN: **So when I should be focusing on other stuff... The Blizzard of '68

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Jack knew of the Guardians, of course. He'd believed in North and Sandman himself, though he couldn't recall anything about Toothiana or Aster. After being brought back by the Moon it had been near fifty years before he caught a glimpse of one of them, a golden trail left by Sandman. With that it didn't take long for him to locate the rest, Sandman in frequent contact and not hard to track at all. Sandy was the only one he saw frequently once Jack knew when to look, and for a while he chased away the cold hand of loneliness gripping his heart by playing in the golden dream sand of the older spirit. The sand almost always carried the feeling of warmth, happiness, and contentment with it, little transferring to Jack whenever he bothered to reach, but enough to amaze him every time. Occasionally he'd see this tiny little figure fluttering around, closer to a hummingbird than anything else Jack could call to mind, and he assumed they were Toothiana's helpers.

But if they knew about him they had made no real effort to reach out. And they knew of him, all had seen him, but he just wasn't sure if they _knew_. If the Guardians didn't care about him, didn't have time for him, or if it was a mixture of both, or maybe it was the fact that they all seemed so isolated from one another, even Sandy. The four were still strong friends though, none giving Jack a second glance unless it was to size up what he could do. So, as the Moon had told him so long ago, he became the embodiment of his name: frosty. A sarcastic and cocky habit of talking whenever he did see another Guardian, never wanting to let on how unbearably lonely he was.

He'd tried reaching out in his own way, which admittedly could have been faulty, but only having the unresponsive moon and the ever familiar presence of the north wind that would carry him where he wished did not exactly teach him good conversational skills. Jack had reached out and been rebuffed, and so he didn't actively search for any of them. The young spirit had no way of knowing that his antics with the children, with his careless way of frosting and sending out snow sometimes, pretty much everything he did for fun, made the Guardians see him as a troublemaker, better left alone to make himself happy.

He naturally gravitated to wherever humans lived, specifically children. It hadn't taken him long to figure out that even though he would never be seen or heard, believed in, he could still influence them. Almost all of the most epic snowball fights, delays, and closings were his doing. Jack had also found out that whenever his emotions ran high his powers seemed to grow greater, he'd had several breakdowns and woken to found a winter wasteland, too cold for anything but himself, and possibly North. His name was known, the whole "Don't let Jack Frost nip at your nose!" thing, but he'd never known how it had gotten around. And it didn't make them believe, it was just a phrase. Like God Bless you, even though the humans no longer believed that whoever sneezed was being possessed by a demon.

Time meant very little to him. One day easily blurred into the next, only differentiated by the rise and fall of the moon and the scenery, and even then years could easily slip by without him noticing. After a particular tough boot out of North's workshop, being told in Yeti that he was on the naughty list and not wanted at all, he had once let a hundred years just slip right on by. He'd still done stuff, still created snow and frost, still given kids snowball fights and awesome sled jumps, he just hadn't… cared. At all. He even stopped touching Sandy's golden dream sand whenever he saw it. One day Jack had idly listened in on a conversation, a father telling his son how to write the date in the correct order, and realized just how much time had gone by without him noticing. But time was just as fickle as everything else in his life, it all left him alone. Even the Man in the Moon.

As time held very little interest to Jack, he hadn't known it was Easter that fateful day he finally decided he'd had enough upon seeing Aster. In hindsight, the frantic hopping around and the army of gloriously colored eggs should have been a big hint, but obvious signs meant even less to Jack then time did, and he was just so lonely. He had to have someone to talk to besides himself; he couldn't handle slipping any further, that coldness around his heart growing darker as the time he tried not to care about passed.

Jack had approached the Guardian of Hope silently, using the wind to glide and drop beside him completely sile-_crunch_. Both Aster and Jack flinched at the loud crunching sound, the Pooka because he'd been so focused on Easter and delivering the eggs that he hadn't even notice the slight chill that always came with Jack Frost, and Jack because he'd just stepped on one of those eggs that he'd always admired so much.

"Wha' ah ya doin', frostbite?" Aster growled, whirling on Jack immediately.

Jack decided it safer to back up then continue standing his ground on the broken egg, "I'm sorry, I just wanted to see what you were doing, I didn't mean to do it."

"Sorry doesn't give me my egg back, ya little-" Aster cut himself off, glaring at the frost spirit. "That's one less egg for Easter!"

"Is it Easter?" Jack drawled with mild interest, not realizing how much time had passed, just as Aster didn't realize that Jack wasn't asking that in a mocking manner. The Pooka glowered at him, but Jack didn't notice. "Do you need any help?"

"No, I dun need any help!" Aster snapped,

"No need to get your panties in a bunch there, Kangaroo." Jack snorted at his own nickname, the first thing that came to mind when thinking about an Australian accent, as he bent to pick up the egg.

"Kangaroo?" Aster snapped in disgust, swiping the broken egg out of Jack's hand roughly. "Ya ruin everythin' ya touch! That ain't me getting' mah panties in a bunch, that's ya bein' completely useless! Dun you have some gardens to freeze? I'm a busy _bunny_, so get outta here before ya make a mess of anything else!"

Jack couldn't even think of a response before Aster was gone, trying to find good places for the eggs. The winter spirit gripped his staff tightly, head bowed as he tried to figure out if the Guardian of Hope really hated him, or if he had just caught the Pooka at a bad time. But the cold in his heart whispered that Aster was right, that outside of making some kids happy, he'd never be useful. Maybe that was why no one could see him.

The following blizzard was done unconsciously, so much so that Jack had been entirely surprised to even see snow around him given that it was supposed to be a warm climate. He couldn't very well tell that to the enraged Guardian of Hope that found him, very near to the spot where he originally crushed the egg. The younger spirit was chased away by the angered Pooka, and marked for the naughty list yet again on North's list.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: **Thank you all for being so patient on the update! I have the next chapter mostly written up now, but I thought some more Jacky angst was needed! Review to tell me what you think, or what you might like to see happen. :)

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Jack stared at the list on the wall, knuckles white from the grip he had on his staff at the moment. In a back corner of North's workshop, a room that had a little bit of everything that made North in it, was the Naughty list and the Nice list. Between the two all of the world's children were divided, more on the Nice list by far. Each list started from the youngest at the top, more impressionable, and then the oldest at the bottom, those who were closer to not counting than counting on the lists. And there, on the very bottom of the Naughty list, was Jack's name, and the number of times he'd been on the list.

The Guardian of Fun could feel himself grate his teeth as North made a huge show of marking out Jack's name from the Naughty list, officially wiping clean the slate like he had promised on a day that seemed ages ago now, the day Jack had first been told he was chosen to be a Guardian. The only thing the winter spirit could see was the number of years that he'd been on the list, every single one since he'd woken up as what he was now, not the human he had been.

That innocent little number, over two centuries counted down on a list right next to his name, somehow explained so much. He was still counted as a kid, not quite reaching adulthood in his human life, but yet somehow Santa never came to give him a present on Christmas. He never lost a tooth so he never saw Toothiana, or any of the Baby Teeth, and since he was marked off by the Guardian of Wonder it only made sense that Bunny had largely ignored him too, when hope was the only feeble thing Jack had really had to hold on to for so long.

He wasn't a child when he died, not by any means, but nor was he an adult. That precarious in between stage where he'd already gone through some of puberty but wasn't ready to take on the world. Except then he had died to save his dear little sister, and had been brought back without a memory. No family, no friends, not even Manny said more than two words to him. Was it really a surprise that he got attention the only way he could from those who didn't believe by making them slip and slide and get into accidents, by starting snowball fights? And it had put him on the Naughty list.

_In part, he was the creation of his isolation._

That realization was like a punch in the gut to the Guardian of Fun, and frost spread out on the floor from where his feet rested. His vision went white as he gripped his staff even tighter, a growing storm inside of him. Colder than cold, the only noticeable time he had ever really felt the temperature that so went with his element came with his sudden realization that it hadn't all been the Guardians, that in a large part it had been himself who had pushed the others away when he had wanted so desperately to pull them in.

And then-_and then a huge hand wacked him square on the back, North forever unaware of his own strength as he made the winter sprite stumble_. Just like that the rage was gone, Jack blinking in amazement as the sound in the room suddenly came rushing back to him, the sound he must have been blocking out.

What had he gotten so angry about? North was laughing boisterously, a hand on Jack's shoulder now. Jack's name and years of being naughty was marked out on the list. He could hear the humming of Toothiana's wings, the almost imperceptible sound of Sanderson signing with his sand. Baby Tooth was squeaking happily at Tooth, Bunny and North were going at it again. All of them were happy, all of them were laughing and joyous, and a little smile came to Jack's own lips. It was infectious.

But even now Jack was shying from the touch of North's hand on his shoulder, cracking a joke as he floated upward to instead rest on his staff more, his own guardian against the world, because he was unused to the touch. It was okay when Jamie or Sophie touched him because they were kids, because it was a little kid's affection, and he was their big brother. But with the other Guardians it was so much more, and unconsciously he was terrified of trying to piece together what every little touch could mean because he was afraid he wouldn't understand.

He knew why he had been angry. It was only now that he realized that even with the family he had the damage of his countless years alone would never go away fully. Psychologically he was a mess, two short steps away from another blizzard of '68, or one even worse. He had to be careful, he couldn't let that happen. Winter was a deadly season, and he knew from experience that his emotions could make it worse.

Jack, the still freshly appointed Guardian of Fun, glanced at his scratched out name on the Naughty list one last time, before shoving down all the unpleasant feelings and putting on a grin that came a bit too naturally. He then turned to the three he now counted as family, "How about some of Phil's special eggnog? I plan to get back on that list by the end of the night!"


End file.
